


Don't You Forget About Me

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hate Sex, Illness, Love/Hate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Zayn knew how to act when there were others around. They could hang off each other and laugh together and smile wide for the cameras. They saved their hatred and arguments for late at night in the middle of their hotel rooms where no one else could hear them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

 

If you asked him, Harry couldn’t tell you what the argument was about. Hell, for all he knew, it had just been a continuation of the same fight from an hour, a day, a week, a year before. Originally, Louis had tried to convince him that being friends with Zayn, putting away all the angry feelings, would make everything better. The band _could not_ function if two of the members hated each other. But it did. Harry and Zayn knew how to act when there were others around. They could hang off each other and laugh together and smile wide for the cameras. They saved their hatred and arguments for late at night in the middle of their hotel rooms where no one else could hear them.

 

But they were arguing _again_ , and the hotel room was hot and making him irritable and Zayn was just so damn _gorgeous_ that he really couldn’t be blamed for cutting him off, mid-shout, by slamming him against the wall and crashing their lips together in a painful kiss. One with too much teeth and tongue, but the best kiss Harry’s ever had nonetheless. Maybe he should’ve been concerned about just how well his lips fit with Zayn’s, but in the moment, he couldn’t care less because Zayn was kissing him back and Harry was lifting him off the ground and slamming him against another wall and Zayn’s legs were wrapping tightly around his waist. Harry moved backwards into the room until his knees hit the bed and he fell back, Zayn landing on top of him. Zayn shrugged quickly out of his T-shirt and helped Harry out of his before they were kissing again and Harry was rolling them over to pin Zayn down.

 

Harry ground down hard into Zayn’s crotch and Zayn let out the most guttural sound Harry’s ever heard and it sent shivers down his spine. It’s the best noise he’s ever heard. He got off Zayn quickly to take off his jeans, and it was the first time he’d ever been upset about wearing this particular pair of skin tight pants, because they’re extremely difficult to get off and he _really_ wanted to get back to Zayn. Zayn, for his part, was already out of his trousers and his pants were on the floor as well. Harry froze, taking in the beautiful image of Zayn, all splayed out and gorgeous on the bed. His dark skin and the white bedspread did things to Harry’s erection. Zayn sat up on his elbows and watched Harry watch him.

 

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” He demanded, and, _goddamn it,_ even when they’ve just had the best kiss in human history and they were about to have sex, Zayn still knew how to make Harry hate him. He finally got out of his jeans and stepped out of his boxers and then he was kissing Zayn again, their lips slotting together in a perfect symphony. Zayn’s lips moved to Harry’s neck, sucking and biting and making sure to leave marks. Harry reached over to the drawer on the nightstand where he had his lube, because even though this wasn’t a scenario he had imagined, he had expected _something_.

 

Harry slicked up his finger and slipped it into Zayn’s hole without warning him, because he deserved it, that much Harry knew. He deserved it for _three fucking years_ of causing problems for Harry and not once did he think to just kiss him and end it.

 

Zayn bucked his hips up and Harry smiled devilishly, pushing a second finger in and beginning to massage the muscle. Zayn moaned and bit down into Harry’s shoulder. Harry entered a third digit into him and then replaced them with his cock, not giving Zayn a chance to react.

 

“F-fuck, Harry!” He cried out and clawed at Harry’s back, bucking up again. Harry began thrusting into him, pulling out slowly and slamming back in. Zayn was begging him to go harder and faster and Harry was crashing their lips together again in a sloppy kiss that was mostly just teeth and spit; like their first kiss only moments earlier.

 

As Harry neared his release, he grasped Zayn’s cock and started pumping it in tune to his thrusts. Zayn was mouthing at his shoulder and his face was scrunched up beautifully and Harry thought it was just so unfair that someone in Zayn’s position could still look so stunning. And it was with that thought that Harry spilled into Zayn and Zayn spilled over his hand and onto their stomachs. They stayed like that for a few moments, breathing heavily, before Harry pulled out carefully and flopped onto the bed beside Zayn. They were quiet. More quiet than they’ve ever been before when it’s just the two of them alone. Usually, someone was yelling or insulting the other. It was Zayn who spoke first, and what he said wasn’t what Harry expected at all.

 

“I can’t decide,” he said, moving to lie on his side to face Harry, his head cradled in his hand as he stared at the younger lad. Harry turned to face him as well. “Whether I want to hate you even more, or do that again.”

 

Harry grinned then, bright and daring, and Zayn returned it hesitantly.

 

“Is there a rule that says we can’t do both?” Zayn chuckled and wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck and pulled him in again. The kiss was gentle, less demanding and more enjoyable than the ones before it.

 

As promised, they fucked twice more during the night and continued to pretend to hate each other, because you couldn’t exactly have that kind of amazing sex and still hate each other for real. When Harry woke up the next morning, Zayn was still next to him, lying on his stomach with his face aimed in Harry’s direction. Harry smiled softly and brushed his hand across Zayn’s cheekbone, because, well, he didn’t hate Zayn. He did before, but not anymore.

 

Zayn’s eyes fluttered open and brown met green. Harry continued to caress Zayn’s face and he turned his head to kiss Harry’s palm. Harry froze, not really sure what that meant, but Zayn just smiled and stretched like a cat before sitting up.

 

“Should we…talk about last night?” Harry asked, biting his bottom lip. Zayn shrugged and slid out from underneath the sheets, reaching for his pants.

 

“I don’t really think it’s necessary. We shagged and, I don’t know about you, but I liked it.”

 

“I liked it to?” Harry phrased it as a question, still unsure of where this left them.

 

“So, we’ll do it again, then, yeah?” Zayn asked. Harry nodded mutely and Zayn pulled his trousers on. “I’m going to go to my room and change before we have to get to that interview.” He said, making his way towards the door.

 

“Zayn,” Harry said just as he’s about to walk out. Zayn turned and raised an eyebrow at him. Harry wanted to ask, _What about Perrie?_ But he couldn’t, because he wasn’t sure he’d like Zayn’s answer. So he just shook his head and Zayn left.

 

The boys notice, because they always notice, and Louis was the first to ask.

 

“What happened last night?”

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

 

“Well, I mean, last we saw of you two, you were arguing. _Again._ And now you’re sitting together on the couch as if the last three years didn’t happen.” Liam said, looking between the two. And it was true; it was the first time they’d voluntarily sat next to each other for anything.

 

“Me and Harry came to an understanding last night.” Zayn replied. His face didn’t betray anything, but Harry could hear the smirk in his voice.

 

“And you couldn’t have come to this _understanding_ three years ago?” Comes Niall’s sarcastic remark.

 

“That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that everything is alright now.” Harry said with a note of finality in his voice. The boys just shrugged and went back to their activities, not noticing the way Harry’s hand slid lightly up the inside of Zayn’s thigh before turning back to his phone.

 

After the show that night, the boys decided to go out and get smashed. Zayn was there with Perrie, and Harry couldn’t help the jealousy that pooled at the bottom of his stomach because she had her hands on all the places that Zayn was hiding bruises and love bites underneath his shirt. Harry tipped back one more shot before making his way over to them.

 

“Mind if I borrow him for a moment?” Harry asked. Perrie nodded, waving them away before turning to talk to Niall. Zayn was wearing a smirk that said he knew what was going on, but Harry didn’t care. He dragged Zayn to the bathroom and barricaded the door. He shoved Zayn up against the wall and kissed him hard. Zayn moaned deeply and his fingers wrapped themselves in Harry’s curls.

 

“Is someone a little jealous, Harry?” He whispered against Harry’s lips as he slowly unzipped his jeans. Harry whimpered as the teeth of the zipper scraped against his growing erection.

 

“So what if I am?” He said through gritted teeth, his face hidden in Zayn’s neck as Zayn slid a hand into Harry’s jeans, wrapping around Harry’s member.

 

“Nothing,” Zayn replied starting to slowly move his hand, using the precome leaking from Harry’s cock as lubricant, “It’s actually kind of hot.” Harry mouthed at Zayn’s throat and tensed up moments before he came, spilling over Zayn’s hand and getting some on the bottom of his shirt. Harry leaned his head against Zayn’s shoulder to steady himself before kneeling down and unzipping Zayn’s jeans.

 

“Someone’s a little eager, aren’t they?” Zayn teased and Harry froze, staring up at him. There were things that Harry liked hearing during sex, and there were things that veered too close to insults.

 

“I’m not a slut.” Harry said bitterly. He knew what the tabloids said about him. He knew what the world thought of him. They thought he was just a horny child, looking for the next random hookup. And Harry tried not to let that get to him, but hearing it from Zayn hurt him a lot more than he thought he would. Zayn seemed to realize his mistake and he reached down and pulled Harry to his feet.

 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Zayn whispered, kissing Harry lightly on the cheeks and jaw. “I didn’t mean it like that, yeah?” Harry sighed and stepped back, steeling himself.

 

“You should get back to Perrie.” He said. “She can take care of that for you.” Harry nodded to the obvious erection in Zayn’s jeans. He moved for the door and unlocked it. He left Zayn alone in the bathroom and outside to find a cab. Why did he think it was going to end any differently? Harry was clearly just some fling for Zayn. And that was good, that was okay. Harry had been used before. He would survive this.

 

Later, Harry awoke to a loud pounding on the hotel door. He shifted and groaned, feeling his head pound as his hangover set in. He squinted at the clock and saw it was half four in the morning. He’d only been asleep for two hours. The pounding continued and with another groan, Harry made his way over to it in just his boxers. He opened it to reveal a much disheveled looking Zayn.

 

“What the fuck, Zayn? Do you realize what time it is?” Harry asked. Zayn let out a quiet growl and pushed his way into the hotel room. Harry slowly closed the door and turned to face him. He was absolutely seething and Harry wondered what he could have possibly done to cause this kind of reaction.

 

“I don’t understand how this happened!” Zayn shouted and Harry wondered for a second if they were back to their arguing ways.

 

“How what happened?”

 

“You, me, us! I _hated_ you, Harry! And then, suddenly, I don’t hate you anymore and I can’t stop thinking about you. About your lips and your skin and your voice when you come. I just….” Zayn took a shaky breath. “I broke up with Perrie.”

 

“You what?” Harry asked, confused. Nothing Zayn was saying was making sense to him.

 

“I told her I just didn’t feel the same anymore.” Zayn said, collapsing onto the couch as if all his strings had been cut. Harry hesitantly walked over to him and sat down on the other end of the couch from him.

 

“If this is about what happened in the bathroom, I’m fine, really-“

 

“It’s not about what happened in the bathroom- well, okay, it kind of it- but it’s about everything, Harry! About three years of fighting with you when we could have been doing what we did last night. I want you, Harry. And not just the sex, I want to take you out on dates and hold your hand and kiss you whenever I want and-“

 

“Zayn, Zayn!” Harry said, cutting him off and shaking his head. “Zayn, we hate each other. Last night was great and all, but do you honestly think that you and me, as a couple, could work?”

 

“Yes, Harry.” Zayn said honestly, scooting down the couch and taking Harry’s hand in his. “I want to make it work.” Harry bit his bottom lip, staring down at their hands. It was late (or early, depending on how you looked at it), and Harry was hung over and Zayn was drunk, but Harry wanted it to work. He wanted Zayn.

 

“Okay,” he replied softly. “Okay.”

 

 

░3 Months Later ░

 

 

“Jesus Christ, Zayn!” Harry moaned. Zayn was straddling him on the bed, his hips grinding down ever so slightly. He had Harry’s hands pinned above his head and he kissed his way up Harry’s right arm, up to the wrist, and then back down before doing the same to his left arm, punctuating each kiss with a small undulation of his hips.

 

“Zayn, fuck, I-I need you-“

 

“Oh, really? You _need_ me? What was that comment last night about you not needing anyone?” Zayn teased, biting Harry’s collarbone and then kissing over the sting.

 

“Fuck, Louis was being a twat, okay?” Zayn hummed noncommittally and continued to suck love bites into Harry’s chest.

 

“You know what could make this go faster.” Zayn said, swirling his tongue around Harry’s nipple, causing him to shake involuntarily.

 

“Zayn, you know why we can’t do that.”

 

“It’s not like I’m asking to tell the entire world, Harry!” Zayn said, leaning back to stare down at his boyfriend. “Just the boys. It’s not like they don’t already know something’s up. That something’s _been_ up for three months.” Harry sighed and sat up, causing Zayn to tumble onto his side of the bed with a huff.

 

“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t want to tell Louis.” He said. Harry sighed again and rubbed his face with his hands.

 

“It’s just-” he began but stopped, not wanting to say what he was thinking.

 

“It’s just what?”

 

“It’s just…if we tell them and then break up…”

 

“Are you planning to break up with me?” Zayn asked calmly, staring curiously at Harry.

 

“No, but, I mean, if it _were_ to happen-“

 

“It’s not going to happen, Harry. I love you.” Zayn said. Harry smiled a small smile, loving the sound of those words on Zayn’s tongue. When Harry had said it for the first time a month before, he’d been afraid Zayn hadn’t felt the same. And it had taken him a week to return the sentiment, but now that it was out there, Zayn said it quite a bit, knowing that Harry craved the constant reminder.

 

“I love you, too. It’s just…everyone thought that you and Perrie were going to last forever. I don’t want to get my hopes up that we’re going to last forever and have it all thrown back in my face.”

 

“Harry,” Zayn said, grasping Harry’s hand and holding it up. “Do you feel that? They fit, like perfect puzzle pieces. My hand never fit like that with Perrie.” Harry smiled again, a little bigger and Zayn leaned over and kissed him.

 

“When?”

 

“When what?” Zayn asked, leaning back.

 

“When do you want to tell them?” Harry asked, biting his lip. This was it. They were making it official. The moment someone else knew, it was real. Zayn grinned and kissed Harry once before quickly getting out of bed.

 

“No time like the present!” He said and Harry gaped at him.

 

“Now! You want to tell them now?” Harry asked and Zayn nodded, pulling his pants back on. Harry groaned and let his head flop back into his pillow.

 

“Zayn,” he whined, “Are you forgetting that we were previously engaged?” He asked, motioning towards his crotch. Zayn smirked and crawled back onto the bed, his face looming over his lover’s.

 

“We’ll finish after we tell the boys.” He said cheekily, pecking Harry once on the lips before leaping back onto his feet and throwing a pair of jeans at Harry.

 

It was strange, really, to see Zayn so excited. But Harry understood. Zayn may have been the quietest of the group, but he didn’t like secrets. He liked that they were a group of boys that told each other everything. Keeping this from them for three months had been hard for him. Sure, Harry hadn’t liked it, either. He’d been so close to telling Louis so many times, but he just couldn’t. Because if he told Louis, that made this more real, which meant that if it didn’t work out, they could never turn back.

 

Zayn tugged him up off the bed so he could get into the jeans and pulled a T-shirt on, a large one that showed Zayn’s collar bones wonderfully. Harry sighed and slid into the jeans before grabbing for a sweatshirt that he recognized as Liam’s. He liked that they all shared clothes. It made buying new ones unnecessary. They stepped into the hallway and Zayn glanced back at Harry before reaching back and linking their hands.

 

They made their way down the hallway to Liam’s room, where they knew the rest of the boys would be. The hotel was a nice one, with plush carpeting and great art murals on the wall that Zayn had stared at for a long time when they’d first shown up. They were in Australia for the last leg of their tour.

 

Zayn tapped on Liam’s door and Harry heard a chorus of “Come ins.” They pushed into the room and saw Louis sitting on Niall on the floor, both of them holding controllers and a playing FIFA. Liam was watching from the couch, plucking away on Niall’s guitar.

 

“Hey, guys,” Harry said, trying to get their attention. Louis held up a finger, telling them to wait a minute. When the game finished, Louis leapt up, cheering.

 

“That’s right, Nialler! I _am_ the king!” Niall rolled his eyes and swung his leg out, catching Louis’ ankles and causing him to crash to the floor. They started wrestling and Zayn sighed.

 

“You guys!” He said loudly and the boys stopped. Liam looked over and raised an eyebrow. Harry watched Louis staring at their linked hands.

 

“We have some stuff we want to tell you.” Zayn said. Louis’ eyes snapped to Harry’s face and Harry knew that he knew.

 

“No,” he said, shaking his head fiercely. “No, Hazza, no.”

 

“Louis, please, just-”

 

“No, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

 

“Am I the only one who doesn’t have a clue what’s happening right now?” Liam asked and Zayn sighed.

 

“What _is_ going on?” Niall asked slowly, staring worriedly at the silent conversation that Harry and Louis were having.

 

“Harry and I are together.” Zayn started bluntly and Liam and Niall’s eyes widened almost comically.

 

“No,” Louis said again, standing up and walking out of the room. Harry dropped Zayn’s hand and went after him, wanting to explain his side. Louis stormed off to his room and Harry managed to stop the door before it locked behind him.

 

“Lou, would you please just listen to me?” Harry asked as Louis started banging around in the kitchen.

 

“No, Harry, I won’t listen to you.” Louis said, spinning around and facing Harry. “For _years_ we all had to listen to you two bitch about each other because you _hated_ each other. And you think that now you can suddenly be in a relationship? No, that is not how things like this work.”

 

“We’ve been together for three months, Louis.”

 

Louis got very quiet as his eyes surveyed Harry’s. Harry bit his bottom lip, giving his best friend a chance to process the news.

 

“And you didn’t think you could tell me?” He asked after a moment. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy curls.

 

“We wanted to make sure that it was real. That we weren’t just fucking around. I love him, Louis. I’ve told him as much and he’s said it back.”

 

“Three months?” Louis questioned, looking a little uncertain.

 

“Three really good months,” Harry replied, offering a small smile. Louis sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Then, he turned and made his way back towards the door.

 

“Where are you going now?” Harry asked, following him.

 

“To tell Zayn that if he fucks this up, I’m kicking him out of the band.”

 

Back in Liam’s room, Zayn was talking to the two other boys in hushed tones, explaining to them what all had happened. Harry took a seat next to him and their hands immediately connected. Louis watched the interaction with a soft smile.

 

“So, you guys are actually serious?” Niall asked, looking between them. They both nodded.

 

“Three months is a little long to keep a secret, don’t you think?”

 

“I wanted to tell you sooner!” Zayn defended. “Harry wouldn’t let me!”

 

“Harry Edward Styles, you little twat!” Louis said, pointing an accusing finger at him. Harry glared over at Zayn.

 

“But I’m glad it seems to work.” Liam said earnestly. “It’s much better than you two bickering all the time. It was bloody irritating.” The boys laughed softly at this.

 

After that, everything seemed easier between the boys, now that Harry and Zayn didn’t have to hide. Whenever they were together, they’d steal small kisses and whispers and the boys would just roll their eyes.

 

It was right before their second to last show when Harry started to feel ill. He had felt sore for the past couple of weeks, although he couldn’t recall doing anything that would have caused it. His head hurt, and he kept getting nosebleeds. All of which he didn’t tell any of the boys about. If they suspected he was sick, they’d all worry and he couldn’t have that. Not with only two more shows left.

 

They were rehearsing the night before the show and Harry was struggling to focus. His body ached and every movement made him feel like he was going to throw up. He knew his verse was coming up, so when the music hit his cue and he didn’t start to sing, Louis was calling out to him.

 

“Oi, Hazza, that’s your part!” When Harry didn’t respond, it was Zayn who spoke.

 

“Babes, you okay?” Harry turned to look at him when he felt his legs give out. The last thing he heard before he blacked out was Zayn crying out his name.

 

When he woke up, he noticed right off that he was in a hospital. He also knew that the hand grasping his own was his mother’s.

 

“Mum?” He groaned out. His throat felt like he’d swallowed a dozen razorblades. Anne let out a shaky gasp and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

 

“Oh, Harry, I’m so glad that you’re awake, sweetie!” She said, smiling at him. Harry frowned. There were tears in her eyes.

 

“How long have I been asleep?”

 

“A few days.” _A few days_! Harry internally panicked. A few days meant he’d missed both of their last shows. Shit, management would be pissed.

 

“Where’s Zayn?” Harry choked out, looking around the room. Anne looked rather confused by the question.

 

“Zayn? He’s, um, in the hallway, I think? Why, sweetie?”

 

“Can you have him come in here?”

 

“I- yeah, okay. I just, I thought you and Zayn didn’t really get along, honey.” Anne asked, staring in confusion at her son.

 

“It’s a long story, mum. Can you just send him in here? And maybe get me some water?”

 

“Oh, here’s some water.” She said, handing him a cup. She then got up and made her way into the hallway in search of Zayn. A few minutes later Harry heard familiar footsteps and then Zayn was entering the room. His hair wasn’t styled in its usual quiff, instead hanging loosely over his forehead. But he was smiling at Harry, which made him feel better.

 

“Hey, babes,” he said, sitting down and grabbing onto Harry’s hand, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

 

“I missed the last shows. Goddamn it, I’m really sorry.” Harry said and Zayn shushed him with a shake of his head.

 

“No, Harry, no. After you collapsed, and then you wouldn’t wake up, management called off the last two shows.” Zayn explained, caressing Harry’s cheek.

 

“But the fans! They were counting on us to be there.” Harry mumbled tiredly.

 

“Shh, Harry, it’s alright. They all understood that you were sick. They all just want you to get better.” Zayn reassured him, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Get some rest, darling, okay?” The doctor chose that moment to walk in and Harry, almost asleep, blinked himself awake.

 

“Mr. Styles, I’m so glad you’re awake. Mr. Malik, I’m going to have to ask you to leave for a moment.” He said as Anne made her way back into the room. She raised her eyebrow at Zayn’s hand wrapped around her son’s, but she didn’t say anything. Zayn sighed, let go of his hand, and made his way out of the room.

 

“What’s this about?” Anne asked, sitting in the chair Zayn had vacated.

 

“We got the test results back. It’s bad news, I’m afraid.” Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Something was very wrong.

 

“We’ve run multiple tests and…well, your son has leukemia.”

 


	2. Chapter Two

 

Looking back on it, the beginning of their relationship had been like the eye of the storm. They’d gotten through the bad beginning. Zayn had hated Harry with every fiber of his being and then they’d formed their strange relationship and things had settled down. They could almost forget that the second half of the storm had yet to occur. Harry was carefree and lovely, choosing to just enjoy the moment. But Zayn, he had waited for the other shoe to drop.

 

The shoe’s name was leukemia. Zayn really wished he’d spent more time enjoying their relationship than worrying about the future. Because now, it didn’t appear as if they would have any future at all.

 

Harry tried to be brave. He listened intently to the doctors and agreed to work with them as best he could. They said they could cure him. And every time he felt Zayn starting to get angry or overwhelmed, he would squeeze his hand and smile reassuringly at him. It never helped, but Zayn pretended it did. For Harry’s sake.

 

The first time Harry went to chemotherapy was two weeks after he’d been diagnosed. For an hour afterwards, he’d been fine. And then, he’d been curled with Zayn on the couch when he lunged for the bucket on the floor, throwing up everything he’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours. Zayn rubbed his back, not sure what else he could do, and when Harry was finished, he helped him wipe his mouth and fix his sweaty hair into a headband and beanie.

 

The band continued to have interviews, although, the questions now revolved around Harry and his leukemia. Usually, the interviews were only with three boys. Harry wasn’t strong enough to sit through an interview while he was undergoing chemo, and someone had to stay back with him. Anne had offered to stay at Harry’s flat with him, but the boys had rejected the idea. There was no way they were just going to hand Harry off because there was a problem.

 

Usually, it was Zayn who stayed with him. They’d come out to management, so they were a little more lenient. But the fans didn’t know, so it wasn’t like Zayn could always be the one to stay back. If Zayn was forced to go to an interview, Louis would stay behind. On the rare occasions that management forced them both to go, Niall and Liam would take turns, although, they weren’t as used to it therefore they really had no clue what they were doing.

 

Zayn didn’t like to admit that he was used to it. That he was used to waking up at two in the morning and having to run to the bathroom because he could hear Harry throwing up a lung. He didn’t like admitting that he was used to the sounds of Harry crying because it hurt so much that he couldn’t breathe. And he didn’t like admitting that he was used to the way he would find huge clumps of Harry’s curls on the bed and in the shower until finally Harry convinced him to just shave the remainder of it off.

 

Three months later, Harry was finally taken off chemo and they were seated in the hospital lobby, waiting to be called back to look at Harry’s test results. Zayn was holding Harry’s hand gently, seeing as Harry was so tiny now. Anne and Jay were seated across from them, trying to look nonchalant as they read through magazines, but Zayn could see the way their hands were joined together, so tightly their knuckles were white.

 

Zayn’s mum was sitting next to him, talking quietly with Liam. Louis was on the other side of Harry, holding his other hand while he watched the news lazily, waiting for Niall to return from his coffee run.

 

“How’re you feeling?” Zayn asked Harry quietly. Harry shrugged and let his head rest on Zayn’s shoulder. Not only was he tiny, but he had been so tired lately. Leukemia was slowly taking all of his energy. Zayn kissed the top of his head.

 

Anne and Jay watched the exchange with fond eyes. When they’d told all of their families, it had been Jay who had objected, much like Louis when they’d first told him. She had told them that they were children and that they didn’t know what they wanted. She yelled and told them that Louis would always tell her how much they hated each other. But then, a few days later, she’d been the witness to Zayn trying to calm Harry down whilst he was crying because he just _hurt all over_ and she’d seen the way Zayn had kissed his face and had sang softly to him until he’d finally fallen asleep. She hadn’t objected after that.

 

As for Zayn’s mum, she had been a little disappointed that he hadn’t told her. She told him that she’d support him no matter what, and if Harry made him happy, then she was happy. Zayn’s father hadn’t taken it as simply. He hadn’t spoken to him since.

 

“Harry Styles?” A nurse called and Anne stood up, grasping for Harry’s hand. Only family was allowed back. Zayn was about to let go of Harry’s hand when he clutched tighter.

 

“Please, come.” Harry asked quietly. Zayn nodded mutely and walked with him, shooting Louis a glance. He thought that their relationship was probably hardest for Louis. He was Harry’s best friend, and Zayn always felt like he was stealing Harry from him. But Louis just smiled softly and nodded to him, granting him permission to do this for Harry.

 

Once in the back room, the nurse instructed them to have a seat while they waited for Dr. Garner. Harry got comfortable on the examination bed while Anne and Zayn took a seat in the chairs. Zayn didn’t like that Harry seemed so familiar with the setting.

 

Dr. Garner entered a few moments later with Harry’s X-rays. He placed them on the light screen before turning and offering Harry a sad smile that Zayn knew could only mean one thing.

 

“So, I have some good news and some bad news.”

 

“Bad news first,” Harry said, sitting up and staring over at Dr. Garner.

 

“The leukemia has gotten worse.” He said and Harry sighed, rubbing his face slowly before looking back up.

 

“And the good news?”

 

“No more chemo.”

 

“But, don’t I need that to get better?”

 

“The chemotherapy isn’t working, Harry.” Dr. Garner explained.

 

“So, really, it’s not actually _good_ news.” Anne snapped and Zayn sighed. Harry looked over at him and gave him a weak smile.

 

“Let me finish,” he said patiently. “We have found a donor for a stem cell transplant that may help Harry.”

 

“Really?” Harry asked, sounding almost hopeful. Dr. Garner nodded and started explaining the procedure, but Zayn couldn’t hear anything but specific parts such as, “surgery” “fifty percent chance of success” and “several possible side effects.”

 

The next week, Harry went into surgery. It was a three hour procedure but eventually Zayn was allowed to sit with him while he slept. Three days later, the doctors told them that he was in remission. They’d all gone out to celebrate and Harry had seemed a lot healthier.

 

For a month afterwards, things went back to normal. They fucked on a regular basis because Harry was convinced that those seven months of hell were too long to go without sex.

 

It was a chilly August morning that Zayn was spending the day in the studio with Liam going over new songs for their fourth album. It mainly was spent with them writing things down, handing them off to the other and having them crumpled up and thrown back at them because it all sounded like shit.

 

Zayn made his way back to the flat he’d bought with Harry a week after he’d been remised. Upon entering the flat, he was surprised by the silence. He figured Harry had been whisked away by Louis, but he was startled when he heard a loud sound come from the bathroom. He knocked lightly on the door and then turned the knob.

 

Harry turned and Zayn felt like being sick. He had blood running from his nose and, as Zayn watched, he coughed and lunged for the toilet, throwing up into it and sobbing.

 

A month after the successful cell transplant surgery, Harry relapsed. The doctors were shocked to see how fast it was taking over Harry’s body. They immediately ran to do tests on him. Zayn was left to pace the hospital lobby until a nurse suggested he take a walk because he was making the other people in the hospital nervous. He made his way into the back of the hospital where there was a nice, green lawn and a small pond where a bunch of children from the pediatric ward were running around together. Zayn made his way to the far edge of the yard where a bridge was positioned to look out over the bay. He pulled out a cigarette and lit up after making sure there were no orderlies around.

 

“Hey,” Zayn turned and saw Liam as well as Louis and Niall walking towards him.

 

“Hey,” he mumbled back, sucking the smoke into his mouth before exhaling slowly.

 

“I got a call from Stacey.” Louis said. Stacey was a nurse who they’d all gotten to know very well what with spending so much time with Harry in the hospital. “She said it was bad.

 

“They said they’ve never seen it spread as fast as it is now. They’re doing tests now. He looked so scared,” he got silent for a moment and they listened to the sounds of the water lapping up against the bridge.

 

“I’m real sorry, Zayn.” Liam whispered. Zayn flicked the cigarette off the bridge and turned on Liam, his fists clenching. He reached over and shoved Liam, hard, much to the shock of the boys.

 

“ _No_!” He shouted, shoving Liam again. Liam didn’t fight back, just let him push and hit and hurt. “Do _not_ tell me that you’re sorry. Tell me that everything is going to be okay! Tell me that Harry is going to get better and that he’ll grow old and get married and have kids, even if it’s not with me. Just tell me that he’s going to be _okay_ , Liam!” Zayn continued to shove and hit him, tears falling down his face. Louis was crying as well, and Niall looked small and fragile. Liam finally grabbed a hold of Zayn’s wrists, his hands still balled into fists, and held him tight.

 

“I’m so sorry, Zayn. I _can’t._ ” He said and Zayn collapsed into sobs. Liam just held him as he cried. Louis curled into Niall’s side as he cried, as well.

                                                                                                                                

Management called a meeting for the four boys. They talked about the way things would be when Harry died.

 

“What the fuck are you saying?” Zayn spat out, shoving back from the table. Louis gripped his hand, willing him to stop. “ _When_ he dies? Have you already decided that he’s going to die? That he won’t survive this?”

 

“Mr. Malik, please, we need to speak reasonably-”

 

“Who even says there’ll be a band _if_ he dies? Do you honestly think that we’re going to continue with this _stupid fucking band_ if _he dies?_ ”

 

“We’ve spoken to his doctors, Zayn.” Simon said calmly. Louis tugged Zayn back into his seat and rubbed his back.

 

“They said there’s really nothing left they can do.”

 

There was nothing left for them to do for Harry. Chemo wouldn’t help at this stage in the illness, and another transplant would have an even lesser percentage of working. The doctors told them that they would look into other methods, but that they thought that this was the last leg.

 

Some days, Harry was happy and vibrant, much like he used to be. On those days, Louis could be loud and obnoxious, or Liam would play his guitar and they’d all sing along, or even the likes of Nick Grimshaw, who Zayn never really got along with but who he tolerated because he was a good friend of Harry’s, would show up and talk music and bands with Harry until he was too tired to continue talking.

 

But there were bad days, too. There were days when he was so violently ill that the nurses wouldn’t allow Zayn to go into his room in protective isolation. Harry would vomit and bleed and look so close to death that Zayn almost thought he’d disappear right before his eyes. That he’d just fade into nothingness. And those thoughts scared Zayn so badly that he couldn’t sleep at night.

 

It was one of the those bad nights, about eleven o’clock, that Zayn was sitting in the flat trying to take his mind off the fact that his boyfriend was dying when there was a knock at the door. When Zayn opened it, he froze.

 

“Dad?”

 

“May I come in?” Mr. Malik asked. Zayn nodded and stepped aside, allowing his father to come inside. He looked around at the space before turning to face him.

 

“I wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting the last several months. I don’t want you to think that I don’t support you, Zayn. I just- I want you to know that, even though it isn’t a lifestyle that I support, I support _you_.”

 

“I- Thank you, dad.” Zayn stammered out.

 

“Your mother told me that he’s gotten worse.”

 

“Yeah,” Zayn whispered, staring down at the floor. There was a moment of silence when he realized that he was crying. His father reached over, a man who never showed affection, not even towards his wife, and wrapped him in a hug. Zayn sobbed into his shirt for what felt like hours until his father had to get back to Bradford and Zayn was so bone-achingly tired that he fell asleep on the couch. He was awoken by the phone ringing at around three in the morning. He groggily made his way into the kitchen where he’d left his phone and answered sleepily.

 

“Hullo?”

 

“Hello, Zayn?” It was Jerrica, another nurse that Zayn knew well. His stomach dropped painfully.

 

“Yes?” He asked more alertly.

 

“It’s Harry. He’s- you might want to come see him. He might…he might not make it through the night.” She sort of whispered the last part, but it didn’t matter. Zayn had already hung up.

 

When he arrived at the hospital, it was pretty much deserted. He’d already called Anne and Louis, but they were both more than an hour away in Doncaster with Jay. Jerrica greeted him at the door and got him the scrubs that he’d need to go into isolation. Harry was breathing harshly but his eyes brightened, if only a little, when Zayn entered. Jerrica left them alone and Zayn crawled into the bed next to Harry. It shouldn’t have fit two grown boys, but Harry had gotten so small lately that they fit comfortably. Harry let his head rest on Zayn’s chest and Zayn’s arms wrapped tenderly around him.

 

“This is it, isn’t it?” Harry asked breathily. His voice sounded like he’d been screaming for hours without stop. Zayn had to steady himself for a moment before he started crying. He needed to be strong for Harry.

 

“Yeah, babes, I’m afraid so.” He said, his voice cracking slightly on the end. Harry didn’t appear to have heard it, however, over his heavy breathing.

 

“I’m really sorry I kissed you that night.” Harry said with a laugh, although, it sounded more like a coughing fit. “I could’ve saved you a lot of pain.”

 

“Don’t ever be sorry, Harry.” Zayn said fiercely, kissing the top of his head. “I loved every moment I got to spend with you, even if it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.”

 

They slid into a desperate silence, clinging to each other in hopes of maybe keeping each other a little longer.

 

“Zayn?”

 

“What is it, love?” Zayn asked in a whisper. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that it was dark in the room, or that the situation was of the most fragile sort, but whispering made Zayn feel as if their world of glass wouldn’t shatter quite so soon.

 

“I need you to promise me something.”

 

“Anything,”

 

“When I die,” Harry replied softly, “I need you to promise that you won’t die with me.”

 

“Harry-” Zayn started, not wanting to hear this. Not wanting to admit that they were at the end.

 

“I need you to promise me, Zayn!” Harry said, his voice getting a little louder. He continued in a softer voice, his fingers dragging slowly up Zayn’s side. “Promise me you’ll make sure the band keeps going and that you’ll find someone who makes you happy and who you want to grow old with. I need you to try and be happy. For me.”

 

“I’ll try.” Zayn whispered back, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. They were silent for a little while longer when Harry spoke again.

 

“I need you to promise me one more thing.”

 

“What?” Zayn asked, fighting back the sobs that threatened to spill over.

 

“I just...” Harry sat up and looked down at Zayn. Tears were streaming down his face. “Don’t forget about me, okay?” His voice was like glass and Zayn gasped.

 

“Hazza,”

 

“I don’t want to be forgotten.” Harry whispered, letting a sob break through. Zayn sat up and hugged him tight. “Please, just, don’t let me disappear, okay?” Harry begged and Zayn’s heart broke. Broke for the innocent boy that Harry used to be. A boy that was so free and lovely and beautiful. Broke for the boy that thought the world would forget him, that that was even possible.

 

“I could _never_ forget you, Harry.” Zayn whispered into his hair before tilting his head back and kissing him hard. Harry was crying into the kiss, but it was so desperate and full of love that Zayn couldn’t let him go. They kissed until Zayn was dizzy and Harry had stopped crying. They fell asleep tangled together on the small hospital bed, Harry’s head resting peacefully on Zayn’s chest.

 

At 5:42 a.m. on the one year anniversary of the morning they decided to become a couple, Harry Styles stopped breathing.

 


	3. Epilogue

 

░ 2 Years Later ░

 

September had always been a lovely time in London. The colors would blend together to create lovely reds, yellows, and oranges. They could weave patterns out of leaves and the wind. The air was brisk and always filled with a kind of energy that could be felt to the very core of the human body.

 

Zayn liked autumn the most because it was beautiful. He could spend hours walking around London and not find a single flaw in the autumn landscape. He’d always been rather artistic, and the fall months always seemed to bring out the best in him.

 

He was wearing his favorite leather jacket, which was doing a wonderful job of keeping him snug in the chilly breeze. He fingered a cigarette, although he’d quit months ago. It was mostly just a habit.

 

As he made his way down the sidewalk, he noticed a group of teenage girls coming in the opposite direction. His hopes of ducking into the coffee shop next to him were suddenly dashed, however,  when one of them noticed him and let out an insanely high pitched squeal.

 

“Oh my gosh, Zayn Malik!” One shouted and the lot of them rushed towards him, handing him pieces of paper to sign and taking photographs. Zayn signed as many as he could, but the truth was, he really needed to go.

 

“So sorry, ladies, but I need to get going.” A few complained, but Zayn continued on his way, a bit faster this time. Once at his flat, he unlocked the door and closed it behind him, kicking off his shoes and padding into the living room. It was there that he was hit with the scent of fresh cooking, clean laundry, and _home_. All scents that he hadn’t smelled in a very long time. Setting down his bag of grocery items, he treaded softly into the kitchen.

 

A year ago, he didn’t think he’d be here. But now there were peppers sizzling over chicken, biscuits rising in the oven, and a cup of tea was being placed in front of him and he knew: he was home.

 

“I don’t understand how it took you almost half an hour to haul your skinny arse to the market down the street and come back.”

 

“It’s all part of my charm,” Zayn said. He smiled and pulled him in, kissing him softly before leaning back and breathing him in. _Harry_.

 

“I bet it is.” He murmured, leaning forward to connect their lips again. Zayn let him, their lips slotting together perfectly. There was a time when he thought he’d never get this again. That Harry was gone forever.

 

But life had granted him this. Had granted him Harry.

 

All the doctors said it was a miracle. They said there was no way to explain why Harry, a boy who should have been dead, had miraculously gotten cured of leukemia. They said it must have been written in the stars for Harry to survive. Zayn quite agreed.

 

“What time are they getting here?”

 

“Soon,” Zayn replied, grabbing for the cup of tea and taking a sip.

 

“Oh, thank you, Zayn, for that detailed answer. I’m so glad I keep you around.” Harry muttered sarcastically, going back to check on the chicken. Zayn smirked and tugged off his jacket, laying it over the back of the couch before moving behind Harry and sliding his arms around his waist. He placed feather light kisses in between his shoulder blades and Harry hummed softly. That was when the doorbell rang.

 

“I told you soon.” Zayn said, biting gently at his shoulder blade before disentangling his arms from him and making his way towards the door. When he opened it, he was greeted by a shitload of people. Not only his parents and three sisters, but Harry’s mum, stepdad, and sister, Louis’ mum and four sisters, Liam’s parents and sisters, Niall’s parents and his brother, his wife (pregnant again), their charming son, and the boys. All in all, the flat was filled.

 

“Oi, where’s the beer?” Niall called out from across the room and Zayn laughed, hoping it would be a good night.

 

It wasn’t an easy thing to wrap your mind around, that someone you loved had stopped breathing in your arms. For Zayn, it caused nightmares where he’d wake up and wonder: was it all a dream? Is Harry actually dead?

 

But, by some strange twist of fate, he lived. And even more miraculous than that, he went into complete remission six months later. He was still small, definitely more fragile, but he looked healthier. He had full color in his face, he didn’t look quite as cancer-esque, and he had physical therapy twice a week to regain the muscle he’d lost.

 

Zayn smiled as the mother’s all flocked over to him, asking if he needed any help and fawning over him as if he hadn’t been in remission for a solid year and a half. Zayn laughed when Harry finally set his spoon down and turned to them, saying,

 

“For the love of God, please leave me alone! I’m _fine_.” And Jay let out a laugh that in itself could cure cancer with how pure it sounded. The room was filled with an energy that Zayn hadn’t felt in a long time. It was hope. Nobody was expecting Harry to drop dead at any minute. And while there was a chance that he could possibly get sick again, something told Zayn he wouldn’t. He’d already died once. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

 

After an hour of mingling, dinner was ready and everyone grabbed a plate, dished up, and found a seat around the flat. The younger kids all sat on the floor, under the watchful eyes of their parents. The older siblings, like Liam’s sisters, Doniya, and Gemma, talked quietly together while the rest of the adults spoke amongst themselves. Louis and Jay kept the room buzzing, always telling jokes and getting the entire room in hysterics. Zayn spent most of the night at Harry’s side, squeezing his hand gently whenever he seemed a bit tired. He hadn’t fully regained his energy.

 

Eventually, the conversations turned to why they were all there and Zayn knew it was time for their announcement. An announcement three years in the making.

 

“Oi!” Zayn called out and the room quieted, giving Zayn room to speak. “So, I’m really glad we could get everyone over here so we wouldn’t have to say it ten thousand times.” Harry squeezed his hand twice, a quick reassurance.

 

“I’m pretty sure we all know why we’re here.” Jay said, smiling at them. “So why don’t we just get this over with, yeah?” A few people laughed and Zayn smiled over at her.

 

“We’re getting married.” A few people clapped at the announcement, and a few, meaning Louis, wolf whistled at the couple.

 

“It’s about time, I say!” Anne called out, raising her glass. Soon, everyone in the room was toasting them. Zayn leaned over and kissed Harry. This was it.

 

~

 

When Harry woke up, it was to complete silence. He wasn’t sure where he was or what had happened. Leukemia. He had leukemia. Where was Zayn?

 

He wasn’t sure how long he was alone, stuck with his thoughts, before a nurse came into the room and seemed to sag with relief. Apparently, whatever had happened, hadn’t been good.

 

“Where’s Zayn?” He managed to croak out. She looked familiar, and she nodded at the question.

 

“I’ll go get him, love. He’s a wreck.” She checked a few things before leaving, hopefully to find his boyfriend. The person who entered the room, however, wasn’t the boy he remembered at all. He looked pale, which was strange since his skin was so much darker than Harry’s. His hair was flat, his eyes a dull shade of brown, and he looked absolutely awful. Wrecked.

 

“Zayn,” Harry whimpered and Zayn made his way to the bed, sitting down, but not touching. Harry couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Had it all been a dream? Had Zayn ever actually been his?

 

“Please say something,” Harry whispered, almost fearful of the answer. Where the fuck was the boy he’d fallen in love with? The beautiful soul who was sexy and graceful and artistic. The boy who had told him not so long ago that he loved him. That their hands fit together perfectly. That they were meant to be.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Zayn asked, his voice a low rumble.

 

“What happened? Where am I?”

 

“You died, Harry.” Zayn replied, and, as Harry watched, the detached Zayn that had walked in the door disappeared and what was left was a sobbing mess of a boy. Harry gasped, not sure what to address first: the fact that he had apparently died, or that Zayn was crying so harshly that it scared Harry to the bone.

 

“I…Zayn, please, look at me!”

 

“I _can’t_ , Harry! You _died_ and I was so fucking scared that I had lost you and I _knew_ it was going to happen because it _always_ happens! Why should I get to keep you when I’d wasted so much time hating you? I fuck everything up, and the one thing I actually manage to do right, fucking Mother Nature took its course and you- you-”

 

“Zayn.” Harry said firmly. He tapped him under his chin until their eyes met.

 

“I’m alive, Zayn.”

 

“For how long?” Harry shook his head. He couldn’t give him a definite answer. And it hurt, knowing that he couldn’t give Zayn everything. He deserved the world, and Harry couldn’t give that to him. Harry remembered flickers of their last conversation.

 

“The promise stills holds, Zayn.” Harry replied quietly. Zayn froze and glared over at him.

 

“I _hate_ you.” He suddenly shouted, shoving his chair backwards and standing up. The chair tipped backwards and fell, creating a loud crash that made Harry flinch. Although, maybe he was just flinching from the utter hatred dripping from Zayn’s words. It was worse than before they’d become lovers. Before they’d become _friends_.

 

“I know,” Harry whispered, because he did. “I hate me, too.” Zayn froze again, the color draining from his face. He looked entirely devastated. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. Harry lay back down and didn’t allow himself to cry.

 

It felt like hours later, but it probably wasn’t that long, that Zayn returned. He was hesitant as he walked towards the bed, but Harry didn’t object. He’d spent enough time with Zayn to know that he had a short temper. When he got to the edge of the bed, he didn’t say anything, just crawled in next to Harry and laid there with him. They stared up at the ceiling and Harry reached blindly for Zayn’s hand, linking their fingers together and pulling their hands in front of their faces.

 

“They fit.”

 

When they told Harry that he was in remission, his first thought was “for how long?” So, for the first month after, they all held their breath. Then another month passed, and then another, and finally, it seemed to sink in that maybe, just maybe, he was going to be okay. Harry was called a miracle, but he disagreed. He felt it somehow had to do with Zayn. He hadn’t given up, not once. Harry had just needed someone to not give up for once.

 

Harry started working with the band again and he started working to get his voice back into tune. He started cooking again, he took the physical therapy he was ordered, and he lived. Everyday, he lived for himself, for his family, for his friends, for Zayn.

 

Six months into remission, one year after Harry had stopped breathing, Zayn and Harry came out to the entire world. They didn’t ask management’s permission. They just did it, because they were young and scared shitless and because they _could_.

 

A few fans were upset, talking about how it was just a promotional stunt, or that Zayn and Harry probably weren’t serious at all. And sometimes, the comments really got to Harry. But they never seemed to faze Zayn. He would always just smile and say,

 

“They’re going to think what they want. You can’t change what other people think. You just have to make them believe that you’re right and they’re wrong.”

 

At night, they would curl around each other and just breathe together, knowing that tomorrow they’d get to do it all over again.

 

A year and a half into remission, Zayn took him away on a small vacation to Germany where their relationship had first started. He had even somehow managed to procure the same room that they’d originally fucked in.

 

Of course, things had changed so drastically that the night couldn’t _actually_ be recreated, but Harry loved every moment of it nonetheless. They went to a club until the wee hours of the morning and then they stumbled back to their hotel and made love on the floor before crashing onto the bed for round two.

 

It was after round two, when they were lying there, panting into each others mouths because they were too tired to move away and disentangle their limbs, that Zayn looked him straight in the eye and said,

 

“I think you should marry me.”

 

“And why do you think I should do a thing like that?” Harry replied, biting his bottom lip and meeting Zayn’s gaze.

 

“Because, you’ll never get anyone as good looking as me.” Zayn answered casually.

 

“Mhmm, is that your only reason? Because,” Harry moved to straddle him, raising an eyebrow, “I might have to disagree with you.” He countered.

 

“Well,” Zayn said, voice suddenly getting serious. “I think that you should marry me because you love me. And I love you.”

 

“Zayn,” Harry breathed, matching his serious tone. “Are you serious?”

 

“I’ve never been surer about anything, Hazza. I want you to marry me.”

 

“Okay,” Harry breathed. And in some ways, it was _exactly_ like the night they started the whole thing. With Zayn’s quiet confession and Harry breathing it all in.

 

And that brought them to now. Sitting in a room full of their family and closest friends and planning their wedding, Zayn’s hand in his the entire time. Two perfect puzzle pieces fitting together.

 


End file.
